


Flies in Spider Silk

by ProseApothecary



Category: Crashing (UK TV)
Genre: Closet Angst and Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseApothecary/pseuds/ProseApothecary
Summary: In sleep, Sam clings to him, sometimes so tight that his ribs bruise.So whenever Sam leans back, glances away, ducks his head; Fred folds his arm against his torso to rest against the dull ache there and remind himself that they are Something, even if no one’s entirely sure what yet.
Relationships: Fred Patini/Sam
Comments: 14
Kudos: 92





	Flies in Spider Silk

Fred has a stuttering way of falling asleep, eyelids fluttering and closing, just for a second, before they open again. Sam always peeks. His eyes are so soft in those moments.

But Fred’s gaze is always soft, like everything about Fred, everything that makes Sam want to curl himself around him and keep him safe from the world’s jagged edges.

Sam, when he’s in a particularly honest mood, knows that his heart is spun from spider silk, that he can barely arm himself, let alone anybody else. Still, he’d risk a black eye, bruised ego or broken heart for him.

He’s trying to risk more.

He know it’s bizarre – he’s pretty sure he would take a bullet for Fred, but the thought of saying _boyfriend_ out loud makes him want to dig his coke out of the box he stuffed it in when Fred started sleeping over.

Which makes him think _maybe it’s not just fear_ and _maybe I can’t wean myself off guilt_ and _which drawer is that box in again?_

Fred doesn’t push. Sam’s pretty sure he considers it a miracle that Sam ever admitted _anything_. Or maybe it’s just the way Fred goes through life. He is the only adult Sam knows who doesn’t keep a secret well of bitterness inside, a stock of _I told you so_ and _you owe me_ moments. Fred gets angry, but it’s for an hour. A day, at most, and then the next morning he’s bringing Sam’s coffee up to bed.

The thought _I never have to apologise again_ may have occurred, but the weird thing is that that Fred being so _nice_ made the _sorry for being a dick_ run straight out of Sam’s mouth.

_You catch more flies with honey than vinegar_ , he thinks. _Especially if they’re like, deeply insecure flies whose parents weren’t really around when they were kids._

Sam wants to pay him back with a fucking waterfall of honey.

But instead, he presses apologies into Fred’s crown, and hopes it’s enough for now.

Falling asleep and waking up together are Fred’s favourite parts of being Sam’s boyfriend.

At the beginning, they were the only reminders he _was_ Sam’s boyfriend. Sam touched him more when they were just friends, less paranoid about Keeping Up Appearances.

But whenever it felt like going backwards, Fred would remind himself – at least now he knew he wasn’t crazy. At least now he knew he wasn’t the only one who fighting the sudden urge to kiss in the middle of Sainsbury’s.

He couldn’t remember ever having the urge to kiss someone in the middle of Sainsbury’s before Sam, and it spun out a web of thoughts that eventually left Fred with one blunt conclusion. That in the past, he’d always reciprocated love with gratefulness. Always surprised, always grateful.

Sam wasn’t exactly subtle enough for surprise to stay on the table, and if Fred is grateful, it’s a different kind, one distant from obligation, because it’s so _obvious_ Sam is happy. So now he gets to feel something else, the tug in his chest whenever Sam delivers a particularly affectionate insult, a feeling it took far too long to identify as _want_.

So if sometimes he wants more than Sam can deliver, at least he wants. And if sometimes his days hurt, it’s only because he’s waiting for nightfall.

In sleep, Sam clings to him, sometimes so tight that his ribs bruise.

So whenever Sam leans back, glances away, ducks his head; Fred folds his arm against his torso to rest against the dull ache there and remind himself that they are Something, even if no one’s entirely sure what yet. 

And then, more and more, Sam nudges him, meets his gaze, gives him incandescent smiles.

And Fred can reach out and touch Sam, instead.


End file.
